Pacific Trash VortexVisit Earth’s Final Frontier and find a little patch of land that

might have belonged to you

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Five People From Past and Future to Have Dinner With

Who would you want at your dinner party?

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CONTENTS

VI. Sunburnt on a Secluded Arctic Beach --- Joshua Grant

VIII. Five People From Past and Future to Have Dinner With ---- Whitney Sharp

X. Egypt: Now, Then, and Whenever --- Johnny Kolodziejczak

XIV. Pacific Trash Vortex --- Sharon Miki

XIX. Along Time Coming --- Sandro Rocha

XXIII. Time Travel Closet --- Holly Phillips

MASTHEADEditor-in-chief and Art Director

--- Elliot Chan

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In a fantastical world where timetravel is a reality, Time TravellerMagazine is the go to source for thebest non-linear vacationing content.

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There’s nothing quite like enjoying a synthetic Mai-Tai on a sunny beach, coupled with distinguished but non-snooty service. And, unlike many other time-resorts, Anchorage 2620 isn’t run entirely by RoboTenders—it’s actually cheaper for them to employ real time-locals, the scattered remnants of a dying earth, willing to do anything for a sheaf of wheat or whatever it is they eat. While this might

sound bleak to some, it spells savings to the thrifty time-traveller. Yes, I’ll come out and say it: post-warming Alaska is a hot, but not-too-hot, tourism destination that is often overlooked in favour of more popular, more expensive time-places. Super-storms and flooding wiped out most human civilization on the planet in the 22nd and 23rd cen-turies. Other than adventure tourism or storm-chasing, there’s little to suggest travellers seeking a trip to that time. However, by 2600, the survivors in the northern and southern reaches of the Earth have had some luck rebuilding and retooling their economies as time-travel destinations. And boy do they ever offer a deal.

Who said global warming would be that bad?

I managed to secure passage to this future, complete with a stay in the swankiest beach-side hotel in Anchor-age, for only four bushels of wheat and $100 of medical supplies¬, this trip is perhaps the steal of the century.

My room was just as I’ve come to expect for time-travel-shares—largely composed of bio-steel and recycled plastic paneling. The Norman Rockwell painting on the wall is a nice touch. The locals rely heavily on wealthy time

Joshua Grant

VI

travellers for income, so, once I left the safe confines of the time-resort, they responded to my presence with a pleasant mix of desperation and deference, trying to sell me crafts made from old soda bottles and other recycling-based knick-knacks from the corners of the shabby streets. I caved and bought what looked like a heron made from bent forks. Plastic-fishing is the other main industry in Anchorage 2620. At any moment, you can see hundreds of quaint, ramshackle boats dotting the harbour, dredging up almost-limitless amounts of plastic from the seafloor. In a bizarre twist of fate, some crazed locals have taken to warning others that plastic is a limited resource, that it won’t be around forever, that they should switch to more renewable industries, but the town’s plastic-fishers pay them no heed.

One of the greatest worries I hear from time-tourists is how will I stomach the food in time-place x? Thankfully, in Anchorage 2620, that’s not a worry. By 2620, the whole planet is pretty much barren. The locals occasionally eat a slurry of cola and native rock lichen, but they wouldn’t dream of feeding that to visitors. All other food is imported from classic food destinations. Want Russian caviar from the court of Catherine the Great? Check. Or perhaps a traditional Victorian English feast of boiled goose and tubers? Can do. During my stay, the weather was excellent. The beach was so hot that I got a bit sunburnt, and, after a brief swim, I’ve developed a weird rash that’s not going away. However, skin problems aside, I can’t think of a more relaxing time-vacation under $20,000 than a week in Anchorage 2620.

VII

THE DINING DEAD

It’s a long standing hypothetical question: what five people alive or dead would you invite to your dinner party? There are plenty of noble people worthy of sharing dinner with—historical figures, celebrities, politicians, explorers. Not to mention, noteworthy citizens of the future. But with strict hypothetical rules in play, specific selections are necessary. So,

who made the cut?

1) John Fitzgerald KennedyI had a crush on President Kennedy long before I knew what he stood for. As not only a crucial political figure, but a pop culture icon I would be dying to know what he has to say about his kids, his wife, and his country. Would he be proud of how far the United States has come? Or ashamed at how much is left to do? It was estimated that Jacqueline Kennedy received 800,000 condolence letters after the president’s assassination. How would he feel about that? I guess I’d have to ask him.

2) Marilyn MonroeI’ll admit, part of my desire to eat a meal with Marilyn stems from having JFK present at this hypothetical dinner table. Would they interact romantically with one another since Mrs. Ken-nedy wouldn’t be there? Or would they maintain suitable relations in front of others? Recently, tabloids and entertainment news have released reports that the blonde bombshell underwent extensive plastic surgery. Now, I’m not saying that’s appropriate conversation to have at a dinner party, but I’d like to think I’d be able to tell a real nose from an augmented one during a live and in-person interaction. And finally, as someone who legitimately reads Playboy for the articles, I’m dying to know what posing for the publication was like—even if it was in 1953.

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3) Captain George VancouverOkay, so maybe having dinner with someone from the 1700s would present some challenges. I’m sure Cap-tain Vancouver would struggle to take a selfie with me, but I have a strong desire to pick his brain none-theless. Explorers of this time had their life in their hands, having little knowledge of what was waiting for them and no certainty what was in fact undiscovered land out there for the taking. Knowing personally the drastic changes Vancouver has undergone in the last decade, I wonder if this great city’s namesake and discoverer would even recognize the place he discovered more than 300 years ago.

4) The 50th President of the United StatesThe 50th president of the United States will happen sometime between 2032 and 2056, depending on the presidencies leading up to that point—who serves one term and who serves two. Currently, the US has seen 44 different men in the Oval Office and zero women. Who knows what the 50th president will look

like? Will there still be 50 states this far into the future? Will legislation have changed so that non-US born citizens can run for this level of government? Maybe this president won’t even be human? Needless to say, I’ll have a lot of questions for whoever is running the country at that point.

5) William ShakespeareWhat writer doesn’t want to dine with Shakespeare? The man is still quoted endlessly. If I had to read his comedies and his tragedies in high school, the least he can do is eat my cooking. But more important than that, a meal with Shakespeare could provide enough inspiration to last a lifetime. And what are his thoughts on plagiarism or idea-thieving? Is he really as brilliant as we all credit him to be? Or did he just “copy and paste” before that was even a thing? I must find out.

WHITNEY SHARP

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Now, Then, and Whenever

A trip through time is always a bit uncomfortable, but the timeline we went with—Timeless Timelines—took good care of us. Unlike most time travelers, I don’t nor-mally expect much on the 8-minute journey back to Giza, 2251 BC, but I definitely appreciated the hot meal and beverage that were provided. Getting the window

seat was well worth it too, as we happened to pass through a 1000-person medieval battle in Scotland and the last few bars of a Beethoven concerto in Germany. Best of all, staying at The Hilton Mirage—which has its own time portal adjacent to the lobby—made customs, immigration and time stamps a breeze.

Johnny Kolodziejczak

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EGYPTThe hotel, visible only to anyone who has been properly vaccinated, is a relatively short walk to the pyramids—the first stop on my itinerary. After slipping into the invisibility cloak that had clearly been ironed shortly before my arrival, I walked up the dusty path in the intense heat and had that feeling of excitement that I always get whenever I finally manage to es-cape the boringness of 2073. I walked past a group of men playing Senet, a popular ancient board game played on a long board with 30 squares, and couldn’t help but chuckle as my in-ear translator told me the angry looking man was saying, “Cheap! Cheap!” Reminded me of my days as a kid playing Street Fighter 12. I guess some things are just encoded into human nature regardless of where and when you are. ---continue on following page---

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As I came around the corner and onto the main road, I was nearly knocked down by a procession of naked slaves smeared in honey. Not something I’m used to seeing, at least not on trips back in time, I consult-ed my real-time Newsclopedia to try to get a handle on the situation. Turns out Pepi II, a pharaoh who apparently was irresist-ible to flies, was in town shopping around for slaves, a pyramid architect, and grapes. From the looks of things, lots and lots of grapes. Interesting.

After they passed by, I decided to walk up the street and grab a quick bite at Kiya’s, a quaint diner that was privy to invisibly cloaked time travelers like me, and sat down in the secret room in the back.

As I waited for my food to arrive, I chitchat-ted with a nice couple who were on their honeymoon and had decided to swing by ancient Egypt, just for Kiya’s bread and wine, on their way to Mars, 3184 AD. It never ceases to amaze me how much Kiya’s reputation nowadays (and significantly more so in later days) has exploded. With belly full and time lag (roughly equivalent to 800 flights across the transatlantic in one go) suddenly start-ing to kick in, I decided it would probably be best to save the pyramids for another day and head back to the hotel. After all, I would need about 20 hours of continuous sleep before I was ready for the dancing, music, and food of tomorrow night’s Thoth festival. I said good-bye to the couple, adjusted my cloak, and stepped back into the scorching hot sunlight. The fun was just beginning.

XII

Trashy travel goes chic

Sharon Miki

Tour the Pacific Trash Vortex to experience Earth’s final exotic frontier in 2050

Are you bored with space travel, but don’t want to go back in time and suffer the atrocious amenities of a pre-Google-Glass world? Despite

what you’ve heard, there is still one place on Earth that any discerning travelista should check out in the future: the sumptuous roll-ing garbage-based islands of the Pacific Trash Vortex in the year 2050.

Overview:The Pacific Trash Vortex, located in the murky and exciting waters of the North Pacific Ocean, is the largest landfill on the planet with a total land mass that is roughly the size of the U.S. state of Texas. The Vor-tex is comprised of a series of island-like masses of debris that have accumulated as a result of human consumption of non-bio-degradable materials like plastic—to truly travel-worthy results.

In 2050, the Vortex is a fiercely sought-after vacation spot for affluent humans looking to reconnect with the historical glamour of the 20th and early-21st’-centuries’ enchanting conspicuous consumption. Filled with exotic chemically-mutated wildlife, colourful plas-tic-laden land masses and a balmy tropical climate, the Pacific Trash Vortex truly is an audacious traveler’s dream.

When to go:Part of the allure of the Pacific Trash Vor-tex is its exclusivity, which largely comes from the limited days of the year where it is possible for humans to visit without being overcome with chemical poisoning from the degrading plastics that make up the land’s mass. As such, the Vortex’s winter season is by far the safest time of year to visit.

Where to stay:A major part of the garbage-glam travel trend is in authentic accommodations—however, when spending money to travel to a foreign locale like the Vortex, comfort and livability are still key. No matter where you stay, you’ll require amenities like oxy-gen rest chambers and access to imported clean food and water in order to survive.

Luckily, thanks to the extensive global warming that has affected this part of the world in 2050, even the winter-time offers a warm bikini-ready climate. As winter is the only time of year that this destination sup-ports human life, it is also the best time for tourism as vendors are able to inhabit the Vortex as well.

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If you seek an ultra-luxe garbage island experience, check out the opulent glass-bottom floating Vortex Resort, which hovers between five to seven metres above land at all times—letting you admire the majes-tic beauty of the Vortex’s swirling heaps of antique trash below your feet without the worry of the toxicity seeping into your body while you sleep. Opened in 2048, the resort is a favourite destination for celebrities and other-worldly visitors.

Or, if you’re looking for a more authentic, rustic experience, go off the beaten track and stay at one of the Vortex’s fashionable hostels like the McHostel, which is a prime destination for young travelers

looking to stay with like-minded visitors. The McHostel offers open-air accommo-dations in a series of elevated metal huts. Because the Vortex is constantly swirling in a gyre, you can go to sleep in your McHo-stel Hut and wake up in a different area—making for an eclectic vacation!

How to get around:Transportation around the Vortex is only possible via hovercraft, due to the Vortex’s aforementioned swirling nature. Budget-savvy travelers can rent a hover craft and operate it themselves, though those look-ing for a more relaxing experience should hire a hover guide—more than just a hover operator, hover guide know the complex chemical properties of the island and can help you avoid dangerous areas.

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Whatever you do, do not attempt to walk unaided on the Pacific Trash Vortex. You never know when a mutated animal will attack you, and the delicate beauty of the land’s plastic composition can be dangerous as it is basically just decomposing garbage.

Where/what to eat:Although the Pacific Trash Vortex is not known as being a prime foodie destination, there are a num-ber of exotic local delicacies that are must-tries in the area.

One must-gobble sushi house, Gomi Sushi, offers carefully crafted fusion dishes made of local, quasi-mutated fish and freeze-dried rations. While there, be sure to try the six-headed salmon sashi-mi—a surprise culinary delight!

While touring the Vortex, you will notice a variety of vendors selling food from hover-stands. Be careful: many of these stands are unlicensed and thus their food could contain fatal contaminants. Always ask to see documen-tation before placing an order, or go safe by ordering a basic dish like freeze-dried water.

Key attractions:One of the most alluring attractions of the Pacific Trash Vortex is the stunningly diverse array of Vortex-specific wildlife—beautiful mutated creatures that embody the earthly ideal of evolution to the highest degree. Take part in a mutant safari tour and marvel at the spotted albatross crocodile, the flying hippopotamus and the winged Vortex lion.

If you’re more interested in a relaxing exotic vacay, indulge in one of the unique spa experiences at the Vortex Spa. A bubbling garbage bath removes the impurities from you skin by bathing you in the finest filtered decaying sludge. Or, invigorate your cells with a hearty radiation peel—in the year 2050, all the plan-et’s It Girls are harnessing the power of nuclear decay to slough off those pesky layers of skin to reveal a truly otherworldly glow.

Know before you go: -Be sure to come prepared with back up oxygen masks and SPF 200 suncreen—you never know when you won’t be able to breathe, and the gamma rays from the waste can lead to unsightly burns-The local currency of the Pacific Trash Vortex in 2050 is bartering, as dollars are no longer of any use to anyone liv-ing on a heap of rotting plastic trash. Come equipped with a variety of things for trade (for example, a day’s hover craft rental will run you approximately 13 glass bottles of beer).

XVII

Bring the family to Jurassic Park

A Long Time Coming

by Sandro Rocha

“ I plugged in the coordinates into the panel on the dash and pushed the large red button that said, ‘CUYESTERDAY’”

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I sit in my laboratory counting my inventory: two outfits, a small plastic mirror, a state-of-the-art smart pocket watch for gathering intelligence, a taser,

and one letter with ancient seal from the pope in Rome. Next is the time machine; levels are good and the quantum motor sounds great. I’m ready for takeoff. Here’s a quick run-down of the purpose of this trip. My goal is to verify and record the events that occurred on or about October 17th 1483 CE—the beginning of the Spanish Inquisition. There’s a certain editor at Time Traveller Magazine, who I’m not at liberty to disclose, who wants to know why the Inquisition was created, and it’s my job to get the story. At 5:43 pm western standard time I gathered up my belongings into a make-shift backpack and stepped into my EX897 Time Machine. The current model resembles a cross between a dune buggy and a flying saucer. I plugged in the coordinates into the panel on the dash and pushed the large red button that read, “CUYESTERDAY.”

Flashes and whirling noises bombarded me instantly. I took short breathes; counting backwards from five, four, three—I felt a heavy pressure on my chest—two, one. I saw a bright light and then my senses distorted; I closed my eyes but the distortion persist-ed, it was like having completely translucent eyelids. And then suddenly all the craziness came to a stop. I opened my eyes but couldn’t make out anything for a few moments; slowly I was able to make out leaves, trees and shrubs in front of me.

I landed where I was supposed to; a dense forest just outside King Ferdinand’s palace in northern Spain. I double checked the dash computer and as I suspected 1483 pulsated on the monitor. I hid the time ma-chine with a small fallen tree and other vegetation. I thought it must be morning because the dew on the grass was causing me to lose my footing, My make-shift bag was hanging from a branch on an adjacent tree—how’d that happen? I grabbed it and pulled out the small plastic mirror to make sure my clothes and appearance was in order; pushed the mirror back into the bag, slung it over my shoulder and made my way to the castle.

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Four short Span-ish soldiers stood guard at the castle gate tower. Their arrows retracted in each of their bows as I moved closer, “Who goes there?” they shouted. The Spanish had re-cently ousted the Muslim occupi-ers, they weren’t taking any chances. Slowly moving my hands into the bag I pulled out the letter with the Pope’s seal and raised it above my head, “I come in the name of the pope to bless this kingdom” I said, trying to sound official. The gates creaked open and two armed guards met me and escorted me into the pal-ace where they stood with me at the foot of a long hallway. The hallway was lined with large hewed stones and lit by multiple torches. “His Majesty requests the presence of the Pope’s messenger,” called out the king’s council.

Inside the king’s chamber Ferdinand and Isabella were in conversation when I walked in, “You come with news from his holiness? Ferdinand said to me, barely hiding his curiosity, “I do my lord, the Pope wishes to bless your kingdom, but wants me to return with a full account of your actions, in regard to the inquisition.” The king frowned and shook his head, “I received an approval from Rome and the Pope months ago, why does he need my reasoning now?” I noticed I misinterpreted the situation from my brief research and began backtracking care-fully, “Forgive me your grace, but I was under the impression that the Pope wanted an update on the situation; nothing more.” The king’s anger sub-sided and he welcomed me to Spain and told me that he would be happy to update me on the prog-ress of his new campaign during a meal. I agreed and pardoned myself into the hands of the awaiting soldiers, who walked me to my room to prepare for the meal.

I changed into my second outfit, and went over all the subjects that might come up in our conversation. I played many sce-nario in my mind; what was I doing here--I wasn’t even Catholic. I reached into my bag and grabbed the smart pocket watch. With it I would was going to record the meeting. At

the same time I put the taser in my waist band like a modern cowboy and wore a tunic over top--if things turned ugly I’d have to fend for myself.

The guard knocked at my door signalling me to come out. We walked to Ferdinand’s dining room and I sat in a place that was prepared for me. King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella walked in; I remem-bered to bow until they took their seats. The king’s jester stood in the corner, looking at me omnicely. I felt like he knew what I was up to, “what do you want to know?” said Ferdinand abruptly.

“Why have you decided to put your subjects through this screening process, what does it benefit you?” I asked Ferdinand as unaggressively as I could.

“The Muslims are defeated, but I suspect many are still lurking among us, waiting to seize the land again. I will weed them out and extinguish their remnant.” the king told me.

“so you’re only looking for muslims? I asked.

“Yes and heretics, Jews, homosexuals, and any other people who will not serve me and the Pope,” said Ferdinand.

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“This country runs rampant with the unholy” Isabella spoke up suddenly. You could tell Queen Isabella was making the decisions in this family. She was an attractive woman; and she was using it to her advantage.

I got what I came for but the appetizers hadn’t come out yet, how was I going to get out of here? And then it dawned on me. “Your Majesty, I’m afraid the lengthy voy-age to your kingdom has made me ill, could I be excused to get some fresh air outside the palace walls?” I asked the king while grasp-ing my stomach.

“You are excused, but two of my guards will accompany you for your own protection,” said the king frustratingly.

“This country runs rampant with the unholy” Isabella spoke up again.

(Awkward look in Isabella’s direction)

“Thank you your Highness, forgive me for any inconvenience,” I said and then got up and sped-walked towards the front gate with my bag in hand--two armed guards following closely behind. The guards called out to those in the watch towers, “Open the gates,” and they creaked open. At this point I sprinted for the forest and the guards ran after me. When I reached the outskirt of the forest I knelt down and pretended to throw up onto the grass. When the guards reached me they bent over to check my condition, and that’s when I pulled out the taser and shocked the first guard, the second froze in shock as if he thought I had magic pow-ers. I didn’t have to exert much force to taser the second guard. I left them there in the grass and returned to the time machine, still hidden under the tree and shrubs.

When I got back to the present I heard that the king had included witches and sorcerers in the inquisi-tion. So I changed the past, no one’s perfect. Mis-sion accomplished.

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The Time Traveller’s ClosetBack-time travellers have always been

obsessed with authenticity. Whether it’s hand-brushed velvet for Elizabethan London, organic linen for Second Dy-

nasty Egypt, or personally chewed leather for the Bering land bridge crossing, authentic-wear can be a passion. And who can argue? Isn’t dressing up a big part of the fun? Nevertheless, most repeat back-timers end up asking one very sensible ques-tion.

Do you really have to sacrifice comfort for an “authentic” experience?

The short answer is no.

But you may have to start with a small attitude adjustment. What does authentic mean to you? If it means living life like a Origine… Well, let’s face it, it would take years in back-time to get the full-on immersive experience, and most of us can’t afford the stretch. But all you need to do is put a little spin on the question. What is the authentic traveller’s experience like?

Because whether you’re from out of time or out of province, you’re still going to be an outsider. So play it for all it’s worth! You’re the mysterious stranger. You’re not going to fit right in, you’re not going to be just one of the crowd — and let’s face it, the harder you try, the more suspicion,

and the more danger, you’re likely to end up facing. Playing the part of a traveller is both as “real” and as safe as you’re going to get.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not suggesting you head off for the great Bering migration in a flash-orange parka. Being too strange has its own kind of hazard. But there’s no reason you shouldn’t maintain your own sense of style and comfort, even when you’re catering to the expectations of the locals. Throw on a Damselle faux shearling vest, tie a few bone beads into your dreadlocks, and who’s going to notice you’ve got thermal undies tucked into your waterproofed Uggs?

Back-timing basicsHere’s a few must-haves to keep in your back-timing closet:• FromClassicalRometoTang-DynastyChina,asimplewide-sleevedrobewillcoveramul-titude of sins.• Amultipurposedo-ragcankeepyoucur-rent almost anywhere in Medieval Europe and North Africa — a surprisingly versatile fashion ac-cessory.• Leather-lookTevasforwarm-weathertrav-elling. Bare toes don’t have to mean bad support!• Andforthehorsebackadventurer,anygoodleather breeches and knee-high boots will do. Go easy on the polish and you’ll be fine.

By Holly Phillips

it takes a licking

and keeps on ticking

the FOOD Of the PAST, PRESENT and FUTURE.